The Last Innocent Summer
by Satine Davinne
Summary: Draco Malfoy. Is he as untouchable, unloving, as he seems? Where does he lie on the perilous line between good and evil? What changes him from the certain and cruel boy to the desperate, scared, and confused Draco we meet in the last two books? 180 views!


The Last Innocent Summer

Two minutes after midnight. Draco's eyes flashed open. He wasn't tired in the slightest. He slid out of bed, careful not to make a single sound. He got dressed in a quick yet silent manner and tip toed quietly out of the open door of his bedroom. He had to be ever so cautious going down the long spiral staircase of Malfoy Manor, the stairs had tendency to squeak.

He arrived at the front door. Fearing that the hinges were not oiled, Draco pulled out his hawthorn wand and tapped each hinge in turn so that when he opened the large oak wood door it opened as silent as death.

The front gate of Malfoy Manor had a spell cast upon it. Only an untainted, pureblooded Malfoy could enter or exit without a password. "_Peacocks._" Draco whispered, and the wrought iron gate opened, just as silently as the door. Then Draco ran. He ran from the prison he called home. He slowed to a walk as he neared the muggle town. He silently wished for the ability to apparate. It would make his life so much easier, but he was only 16.

He was not lost as he walked down Belle Street that night. His white blonde hair caught a silver glow from the street lamps as he neared his destination. Number 181 Belle Street was a simple house. It wasn't terribly grand, nor was it ugly. It was on the small side for a two story, quaint.

He walked up closer to the house until he was just underneath the second story window. The curtains were made of a sheer lacy fabric. Draco bent over and plucked a few small pebbles from the front garden and tossed them gently at the window. He heard a soft click as someone turned the latch and as the window scraped open against the sill. Draco smiled as he climbed up the ivy that snaked up the front of the home.

Getting through the window was not a difficult or an unfamiliar task. He felt the soft curtain caress his hands as he took hold of both sides of the now gaping window. He dropped to the floor with the sound of a pin dropping.

The girl he had met a year ago was sitting on a small, soft armchair next to her bed. Her strawberry blonde hair hung about her shoulders and her deep green eyes were wet with tears.

"Hello Draco," she whispered. Her voice cracked, despite her attempts to disguise it.

Fear suddenly clenched Draco's heart. He sat down in the chair next to the desk with the computer monitor on it.

"Diane," he began, "is something wrong?" he caught his breath, terrified of the answer.

"Draco," she said, uncertainly, "something wonderful has happened, but I am terrified." She looked at him, meeting his eyes. Then she looked down at herself and placed a slightly trembling hand on her abdomen.

Draco tried to release his breath but he could not. Every vital reaction in his body seemed to stop. His breathing, his sense of sight, smell, and touch, his very heart seemed to stop. He knew what this meant. It had been two months since he had last been with her. Two months since he was the happiest man alive. Now everything crashed down on him in the cruelest way possible.

What would happen? To him? To her? To the unborn child? His family would die of embarrassment, and he would, most certainly, die. But what of Diane? Would they kill her too? They certainly could, without so much as an ounce of remorse. For they have done much worse. The Death Eaters were ruthless, mad. Bellatrix especially, though he pretended to adore his crazy aunt.

Yes, Diane did have a reason to be terrified. She was a muggle born in hiding. And she was now heavy with a Malfoy's child. A Death Eater's child's child.

For a moment Draco was in shock. His mouth was agape as tears welled up in his eyes. He then put his face in his hands and began to sob uncontrollably, his fear and delight of the new child conflicting with one another. He lost all pretense of being a man right then and there, right in front of the woman he loved most.

No words could possibly describe Draco's thoughts in that moment. _Why did this happen? How will this affect us? How can I keep her hidden? Can I keep this secret? Should I tell her to go into hiding? _But no, he couldn't just send her away. It would be too dangerous if someone from the wizarding world found her. Who knows what would happen. Terrifying visions of Dementors swooping down on her seemed to bring on even more tears.

When he finally had enough control of himself to speak, he said in a soft, undoubtedly painful, voice, "What should we do?"

She looked up, "I was hoping you would know."

He shook his head, as if trying to shake off the situation, as if he was trying to shake away the past, as if he was trying to shake away the world.

Draco stood up and walked across the room to Diane and put his arms around her, then maneuvered her so she was now sitting on his lap more or less.

"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you." he whispered, "They will only get to you over my dead body."

"Don't do that Draco, what ever happens, never do that, don't die for me." Though her voice was at a whisper, it was stern, final.

"I will keep you safe. You and I will go into hiding. Far away from here. We could leave the country; go to America. That should be far enough."

"But we're both underage Draco. How would we go across the ocean? Even if we had brooms we wouldn't be able to carry any food or water."

The hopelessness of it all was overwhelming, but Draco could no longer cry.

"Then all we can do is hope that no one will notice that you're pregnant, or at least with my child. We can both go on with life as normal until I turn 17 and I can apparate."

"That is all we can do." She agreed tearfully, and then she laid her head upon Draco's shoulder and cried herself asleep.

Knowing it was nearly 3:00 in the morning; Draco gently set Diane onto her bed and climbed out the window, shutting the window firmly behind him.

Draco walked home slowly, dazed. His hands were sweating in his pockets, his chin tucked into his chest away from the cold. He was completely numb, and the cold was not entirely to blame.

He crept forward through the gate, across the yard, and into the, what now felt too spacious, mansion.

He was about relax, to forget what had happened for the rest of the night when he heard a high pitched scream that froze his very soul. The spell. He had forgotten to say the password.

Suddenly Draco was knocked off of his feet, into the air, and then was paralyzed on the floor two meters away. He had been stunned.

His father, Lucius Malfoy, was rushing down the stairs with his wand in hand and Draco's mother Narcissa following close behind. Recognizing the white blonde heap on the floor to be her son, Narcissa shrieked and with a flash of red light Draco could move again. She ran over to him, grabbed his hands and heaved him up, and nearly dropped him when she realized how red and puffy his eyes were.

Lucius simply glared at him. It was a pondering, yet angry glare that sent fear running up Draco's spine.

Although he desperately hoped they would think he was trying to leave, instead of coming back, he very much doubted it; the melting icicles in his hair were traitorous.

To Draco's slight relief, it was his mother who asked first. "Where have you been Draco?" worried instead of accusatory, unlike what his father had in mind.

"That would be exactly what I'd like to know." Lucius drawled menacingly. Knowing he wasn't going to get out of this completely unscathed, he faced his father.

He didn't speak, he was afraid to. He simply matched his father's glare; he even went so far as to twitch at the same time as his father. For a moment he struggled to keep a straight face, this cheered him considerably. His father was not amused.

Draco had earned himself a hard slap across the face. He staggered for a moment, brushing his hand against his smarting cheek. "Don't play games with me boy!" Lucius bellowed. Startled at the sudden act of violence in her home, a tear seemed to drop of its own accord from Narcissa's eye.

Draco didn't say a word. It wasn't long before his father charged at him like a raging bull and pinned him against the wall, to Narcissa's already spiraling dismay. "I asked you where you had been!" he roared.

"I went for a pleasure walk." Draco spat back. He was angry at his father now.

Lucius backed off a little so Draco was no longer pinned against the wall. His voice was now dangerously calm, "Just went for a midnight stroll did we?" he hissed, "Did you decide to purposely set off the caterwauling charm too?"

Draco swore at himself inwardly, he had nearly forgotten about the caterwauling charm.

"In fact," he continued, "If I had not been aware of the fact that your bedroom is empty right now, I'd wonder if you were really Draco." This was the part of the exchange that Draco had been dreading. "Only a mudblood or a blood traitor should be able to set off the charm and you are neither so..?" he let his sentence trail as if he was waiting for an answer, but he was scared. What would the Dark Lord think if it turned out that he had raised a blood traitor? He didn't even know the full extent of the situation, and already he felt about ready to kill his only son. He never would, but the Dark Lord was another matter. He would have no mercy, on anyone unless he had a particular need for that person, then dispose of that person later. What would he do with Draco?

Fearing his father's assumption would be even nearly correct he said, "It must've been a stray cat." He knew it was a lousy excuse, but he desperately hoped his father would be grateful for the excuse and move on.

"What have you done?" Lucius whispered, then turned away and marched up the stairs without another word.

Draco groaned. He was never going to catch a break. He leaned against the wall and sank to floor with his knees tucked into his chest. He flat out refused to cry. At least, until his mother was upstairs.

He just sat there for a moment. He felt cowardly, he felt young, and he felt powerless. He couldn't take it. He was nothing more than a child with grown-up's problems. How did he end up like this? How _could _he? If he had told anyone at school that he was in love with a muggleborn they would laugh and think he was kidding. He certainly would have been, before. Before his life was completely overturned by the completely cliché concept of love at first sight.

He had grumbled over being sent to the market. "This is a servant's job!" he had protested, but went anyway. It was just one glance down the produce aisle and it was all over and all begun. Nothing could restrain the feelings he had felt at that moment. Ridiculous, he had thought later, but still he never failed to miss a trip to the market after that day.

He finally got up. His muscles were aching from sitting in his curled position. It seemed to take much longer to get up the stairs to his room than it should've. His movements were sluggish and his mind was already beginning to shut down for the night. In fact, if he hadn't still been wearing his frozen clothes he probably would have fallen asleep halfway up.

That night's sleep was troubled for Draco.

He had every dream that was "normal" for a father to be, Diane was screaming from the pain of giving birth to their child, and the loud wailing of a newborn baby, both sounds echoing endlessly in his head until it seemed like only one constant moan of pain and agony. But then a not so normal addition, a flash of green light cut across the scene, blinding Draco, and then the world was silent.

Before the sun rose, Diane was haunted by the images of the conversation she had with Draco. Every tear he had shed that night opened a new wound. He was so frightened. So was she, but he actually _lived _with the enemy! His own parents! They probably expect him to grow up to be a death eater. The poor man won't be able to escape them. The man she loved was in pain, because he was in love with her.

She felt so awful. But she also felt kind of happy inside, despite herself. Draco loved her! Loved her enough to defy his parents, loved her enough to run away with her. And she was going to have a baby, a precious little child. Would it be a baby boy or a girl? Oh how she wished for a boy. A bouncing baby boy was all she wanted. Ever since she got over the initial shock of getting pregnant she had been thinking of names for the baby. For a girl she was thinking of maybe Jenny or Rita, both names came from her family. For a boy she thought of names that maybe Draco would like. She had come up with Bourne and Scorpious.

She felt almost ashamed of herself, thinking of baby names in the middle of what was a full scale crisis. She was 16 and pregnant! She still couldn't remember how it happened. All she knew was that it did, and she also knew she had never felt so happy in her life. But was this the cost? Draco's pain?

Why couldn't it hurt her personally? Why did she have to watch Draco's pain to feel her own? It didn't make any sense. She was in just as much danger as he was, and her life has extra baggage to carry! She was the muggleborn threatening the pureblood status of a family so close to You-Know-Who they probably see each other on a regular basis. She was in a dangerous position, if anyone even remotely related to them ever found out she wouldn't live to see the next day.

How long would it be before someone discovered her pregnancy? She wouldn't be able to hide it from her parents or friends for long. All she had was 9 months. She would have to drop out of Hogwarts; she wouldn't be able to go back with a child on her hands. Draco would go and finish his schooling, and learn how to apparate so they could leave his violent family. She could only hope the secret would last that long.

What would her parents think? They certainly wouldn't react as Draco's would, but the definitely would not be happy. Her parents were very pious Christians and premarital sex is a sin. At least the worst she could expect from them would probably be getting kicked out of the house, which she was planning to leave anyway. It would still make it considerably worse to be kicked out rather than to leave voluntarily. She would be really letting them down.

How many people did she have to hurt? Draco, her parents… what if this mess hurts the baby? How could she live with herself if anything were to happen to it in the womb from stress, _her_ stress?

It was 5:00 in the morning and she just couldn't lie still anymore. She got up and began to pace across the floor. She walked in a perfectly straight line back and forth for an hour before she, worried of wearing a hole in the floor, sat at the computer and did a really silly thing. She turned on the computer and it began to hum to life.

She immediately went to google and searched "teen muggleborns with children of insane purebloods children". Nothing showed up of course, she knew nothing would. Yet she couldn't help but feel disappointed. If only she could know that there was someone out there who knew how she was feeling, someone out there who had been in her exact same predicament. Maybe she would feel less alone, less wretched.

"Diane?" a woman called from downstairs, it was her mother. "Diane are you awake?"

"Yeah Mum!" she called. She had forgotten; her mother had yoga every Wednesday morning before she went to work.

"Diane do you want to come down and do yoga with me since you're already up?" she asked hopefully.

"Sure Mum, I'll be right down!" Yoga, relaxation, certainly sounded better than researching wizarding world problems on the internet.

She was downstairs in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt when her mother asked a random question that scared the crap out of her.

"I noticed you were out and I was wondering if I was going to have to buy you some more "feminine items", it's starting to be that time of the month isn't it?" she said it like they were talking about a homework project! She was silent for a moment. Not only was it embarrassing but it _freaked her out! _What was she supposed to say? No Mum I won't be needing those for nine months? Or Yes Mum. What would she say when she found out she never used any? Goodness she was in a fix.

"Oh, yeah Mum." she said, she would just find a way to dispose of them without her knowing, at least until she became obviously pregnant.

The yoga really was relaxing. It was a nice little release from all her stress, a welcome retreat into inner peace.

After she waved my mother out of the door, smiling with a suitcase in her hand, on her way to her secretarial job in London, she sat down in the kitchen at the table with a bowl of Cap'n Crunch Crunchberries and a brown sugar and cinnamon Pop Tart thinking, _I should make yoga an everyday thing, it really does work wonders!_

All her worries seemed to ebb away every time she took a bit e of cereal or a nibble of her Pop Tart. It was a miracle. She actually felt happy.

The happiness lasted all day. She didn't have to meet her father, hiding her secret. He was at a conference outside of the country, Scotland she thought. She had the whole house and nothing could possibly get any worse than it already was without the world ending in crazy, burning chaos.

She knew it couldn't last forever.

That night she was woken by several urgent taps on her window.

She immediately got up, unlatched the window, and pried it open. Draco practically fell in.

He was crying, completely falling apart. He didn't even get up. He was just lying where he had fallen. He finally looked up at her bewildered face.

"I'm sorry." He whispered between sobs. "I'm so, so sorry." He looked like he was ready to kill himself. "I couldn't say no. I had to think of you, of the baby, if I had refused…they would have found…" he was stuttering over his words, he was a complete mess. She didn't know what was wrong but she began to weep anyways.

"What is wrong?" she asked fervently, shaking his shoulders.

He shook his head, ashamed. His eyes were bloodshot.

"Just tell me." She whispered, taking hold of his left hand.

He jerked it away instantly. Almost in the same movement, he took hold of the bottom of his sleeve and jerked it upward.

There, glaring at her menacingly from her love's left fore arm was the Dark Mark, the mark of a Death Eater. A follower of the Dark Lord. She lost the ability to breathe.

"We can't see each other anymore. We just can't." he whispered, hating himself for it.

"I must leave." Draco muttered and got up.

"Goodbye Draco." She whispered.

"I will come back for you." Draco said. "When this is over I will find you."

"I will hope."

"Me too."

Two days later…

"Draco!" his mother called, banging on his bedroom door. He had confined himself there since two nights previous except for meals.

Draco grudgingly dropped the quidditch magazine he had been perusing onto his bed and opened the door to a nervous looking Narcissa Malfoy. "Yes, Mother?" he asked coolly.

Narcissa wrung her hands uneasily. "The Dark Lord has requested a private meeting with you tonight at eight. Here."

A frightened pit formed in the pit of Draco's stomach. A private meeting with the Dark Lord could mean so many things, a majority of which weren't pleasant. "Alright, thanks for telling me, Mother." He tried to say it as calmly as he could without revealing the terror in his heart. It was seven o-clock. He had an hour to get ready and prepare himself for whatever might come.

Eight o-clock came way too fast.

Draco entered the sitting room in a set of new, black robes that he had bought a few days earlier. He paused in his tracks and his heart stuttered when he saw the Dark Lord sitting in an ancient arm chair sipping at a cup of tea.

"Good evening, Draco," the Dark Lord greeted, looking up from the serpent-embroidered rug at his feet. "I trust you've been well?" His snakelike eyes glittered darkly.

"Yes, my Lord." Draco replied. He struggled to keep his voice from shaking. "You wished to speak with me, my Lord?"

"I did." The Dark Lord set his tea aside onto the table beside the chair and began twiddling with his wand that had been sitting on his lap. "You see, ah, I heard a bit of troubling news the other day that I think you should hear. Come closer, Draco, and shut the door behind you."

Draco gulped and obeyed, stepping closer to the subject of his nightmares the past couple nights. "Yes, my Lord?"

"I understand you've spent a little time in town this summer, Draco."

Draco's heart stopped as a sheet of strawberry blonde hair whipped through his mind. _He knows. _

The Dark Lord saw his reaction and smiled cruelly, "Draco, you naughty, naughty boy, wasting your virtue on a filthy mudblood. _Crucio._"

Draco screamed as the curse slammed into him, taking him, writhing, to the floor as he felt as if he had been dipped in acid and set on fire.

On the other side of the mansion, Lucius and Narcissa could hear their son's screams. Tears seeped from Narcissa's eyes and Lucius barely hid a flinch.

After what seemed like several hours of nonstop agony, the pain subsided and Draco was left crying and gasping on the floor at the Dark Lord's feet. His heart beat was a hundred times faster than normal and he could still feel an echo of the pain.

"Stand." The Dark Lord ordered.

Draco shakily did so.

"You know, Draco, had you been anyone else I would kill you right now." The Dark Lord spat angrily. His voice then softened, "However, I am willing to graciously overlook your… _fling…_ if you do a couple things for me."

"Anything, my Lord." Draco choked; he was covered in a thin sheet of sweat. His chest ached where the curse hit him and the fire spread.

"First of all, hold still."

Draco froze.

"_Muto memoria." _The Dark Lord said, his wand still pointed at Draco.

Draco staggered backward as images of memories that weren't his entered his mind's eye. Quietly he watched in horror as the memory played before him like a film.

_He was back in front of the quaint two story house on Belle Street. It was night and he walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. A woman opened the door, her hair the same strawberry blonde as her daughter's. His wand already in his hand, he lifted it, pointing at the woman, "Avada Kedavra." The woman fell in a flash of green light. _

_He stepped over the corpse and advanced silently through the house and up the stairs. He stopped in front of one particular door. Silently, he turned the knob and entered. A beautiful girl with strawberry blonde hair and deep green eyes was lying on her bed reading through a Defense Against the Dark Arts book. When she noticed the intruder, she swiped for her wand sitting on her bedside table but didn't manage to get it before the jet of red light hit her and she began to scream and thrash against the magic that tortured her. For a moment, she stopped screaming. She was lying on the floor, her breathing ragged and her face haggard. "Please, stop." She whispered pleadingly. A flash of green light and she was gone. _

Draco hadn't realized he had collapsed until he came out of the vision. He was shaking and crying. She was gone. The Dark Lord stood right above him.

"There is one more thing I need you to do, Draco." The Dark Lord got down so he could whisper in his ear. "Murder Albus Dumbledore." Then he disappeared with a pop.

His parents rushed in just then, half expecting to find a corpse where the gasping and crying Draco laid in the middle of the rug. Narcissa sat next to him and moved him so his head was lying in her lap while his father merely looked at him in disappointment then turned around and left.


End file.
